


i can resist everything, except temptation

by fluffysfics



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Mild Humour, Post-Spyfall, Treat Fic, gratuitous namedropping of Oscar Wilde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25971625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: After losing the Master to the Kasaavin’s dimension, the Doctor finds herself roaming the universe alone, visiting people she probably shouldn’t be visiting. In the streets of Victorian London, who else should pop up but the Master? Not quite the one she’s hoping for, but maybe that’s a good thing.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Delgado)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: Thoschei Prompt Exchange 2020





	i can resist everything, except temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raindropsonwhiskers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindropsonwhiskers/gifts).



> yes the title is an Oscar Wilde quote, shh, I love him

_This was sad, even for her_. 

That was the first thought on the Doctor’s mind as she stepped out of her TARDIS onto the north banks of the Thames, only a short distance away from Tite Street. Home to many famous human creatives over the years, and currently home to one Oscar Wilde. One of the greatest poets, playwrights, and generally imaginative people of his time. And, although it was a long time ago now, briefly one of her eighth self’s lovers. 

She was pretty sure that most people’s reaction to getting their...ex-friend? Ex-boyfriend? _Best enemy_. Anyway- most people’s reaction to getting their best enemy trapped in an alternate dimension probably _wasn’t_ to go on a universal tour of all their exes and watch them sadly from a distance, but then again, she wasn’t most people. 

So, the Doctor shoved her hands into her pockets and wandered off to find the right house. She kept her head up, gazing at the red brick and the sky above instead of the people milling about below. Normally she was all about people, but...not so much recently. Even her own companions were starting to get on her nerves- which was why she’d ditched them for this little jaunt around the universe. She didn’t even feel all that bad about it, which felt out of character in itself. Not very Doctor-y of her, to be avoiding people. 

It was probably karma, therefore, that about five seconds later, she smacked directly into someone. 

“Sorry!” She stepped back, alarmed, brushing her coat down and then reaching to help the stranger she’d bumped into. 

Except-

Oh, no. That wasn’t a stranger at all. 

The Doctor froze, as stock-still as if she’d been hypnotised, which was absolutely, _awfully_ appropriate considering the person she was now standing in front of. 

“No trouble at all, dear girl,” the Master said, smoothing down his coat. A second later, he paused, shooting the Doctor an odd look. “You’re dressed very strangely, aren’t you?” 

“Erm... I’m lost?” That, she was _sure_ , had absolutely no hope of working. 

The Master frowned at her, and a moment later the Doctor felt a mind nudge at hers. Immediately, she threw up defences, but she was sure that he’d already gotten what he wanted. 

“My, my,” he said, taking a step back and folding his arms. “I suspected you were a Time Lord, but I would never have guessed that it was _you_ , my dear Doctor.” 

The Doctor stepped back, casting her eyes to the ground, and shoved her hands firmly back into her pockets. Suddenly, running back to Sheffield and surrounding herself with the noisy chatter of her companions seemed _very_ appealing, compared to this confrontation. 

“Master,” she mumbled, still not making eye contact. “Aren’t you supposed to be off bothering UNIT or something?” 

“A man can have _hobbies_ , you know,” he said archly. “Clearly your manners have degraded over time, young lady.” 

“Don’t call me that,” the Doctor snapped, her hands suddenly clenching into fists. She still hadn’t moved a muscle. A few people walking by were glancing in their direction, clearly drawn by the tension radiating off of her, but British Victorians were all _far_ too polite to interfere. Until someone got punched, at least. And she wasn’t going to punch the Master. Well. She wasn’t going to punch _this_ version of him. His future self, she might feel a little differently about if he popped up again. And he _would_ , she was sure. 

“Whyever not?” The Master strolled a slow circle around her, then came to a halt in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“I am _millennia_ older than you,” she said coldly, in the tone she generally reserved for aliens that wouldn’t take a second chance if it was offered to them on a golden platter. 

“It’s been that long?” The Master tutted. “Can I persuade you to tell me what _I’m_ up to these days?” 

“No,” the Doctor said flatly. 

“Hmm. Very well, my dear. Very well. It’s been a _pleasure_ to meet you.” 

He turned to walk away, and the Doctor felt herself finally unfreeze. She looked up at his retreating back, and dragged a hand down her face. She hated herself. She really, really hated herself. 

“Wait!” 

The Master stopped, and turned back towards her, a glint of triumphant curiosity in his eyes. 

“Yes, dear Doctor?” 

“I mi— ugh. What are you doing here?” She did miss him. She missed these old times more than anything, where nothing was ever _serious_ between them, where more often than not they’d find themselves working together, side-by-side in a lab, complete with pet names and intimate brushes of their hands that made her hearts ache to think about. But she couldn’t bring herself to put that into words. 

“Visiting a friend,” he said, in a tone that implied either _evil collaborator_ or _lover_ , the Doctor wasn’t quite sure which. She tilted her head, taking a few steps back and grabbing a street lamp for support. 

“Friend?” 

“Ah, ever suspicious, I see. The occupants of this street are entirely human. Mostly _uninteresting_ humans, but there is one Mr Wilde...” 

The Doctor spluttered, darting behind the street lamp as if that would somehow hide her indignation. It did not, but it did make the Master look very amused. 

“ _I’m_ here to see Oscar!” She was certain that her face was red at the moment, but never mind. If any version of the Master was too polite to comment on it, it was this one. 

“Oh,” the Master said, entirely too casually. He stepped closer to the lamppost she was trying to hide behind, stopping short maybe a foot away. “You seem perturbed.” 

“Well- sorry if I’m not thrilled to discover that we dated the same person! That’s- I mean, that’s- I don’t-“ 

“ _Dated_ might be a strong word, dear Doctor.” 

“Oh- you know what I mean,” she snapped, and then immediately felt bad for snapping. Oscar Wilde was hardly even on her mind anymore, not with the Master right in front of her. She wanted to shout at him, wanted to _hurt_ him, wanted to fall into his arms and cry until she couldn’t anymore. Where had everything gone so wrong, between them? 

The man standing in front of her was looking at her like a friend. Relaxed, warm, _easy_. She remembered her last encounters with the Master- the Eiffel Tower, his hand clasped tight around her throat. Screaming, fighting, baring teeth, trading jabs. There’d been so _little_ of that, back when she’d been young, back when this Master had been the one she ran into practically every other week. 

The Doctor thumped her head against the cool metal of the street lamp, squeezing her eyes tight shut. 

A moment later, a hand touched her arm, and she tensed. Only the Master. Relaxing again, she said nothing, and his hand crept up her arm to her shoulder, until it was rubbing the top of her back. That was...nice. She hated physical intimacy, this time around. Trust _him_ to be an exception. 

“Something tells me that there might be more on your mind than Mr Wilde, my dear,” he said quietly. “I can hardly push you to talk about it, especially somewhere so public, but- you do make me worry for you, Theta.” 

Oh. _Oh_ , that hurt. It was an ache, deep in her ribcage, right between her hearts. She missed him so badly. How long had it been, since someone had really, properly _cared_ how she felt? 

“Can’t tell you,” the Doctor said quietly. “Be breaking all sorts of laws if I did. Very bad. But-“ She gritted her teeth, her stomach tying itself in knots. “I...haven’t been having an easy time of it, lately. Really haven’t.” 

Emotional honesty was hard. Actually, _all_ honesty was hard. The truth always stung so much more than a convenient, cheerful lie. 

“I hardly know how to help,” the Master admitted, his hand stilling on her shoulder. “But I don’t like to see you this way, Doctor.” 

Anger pulsed through her suddenly, and she snarled, shoving herself away from the lamppost and grabbing the Master by his shoulders. “It’s your fault. Yours! _You_ made me feel this way. You and your- your stupid _texting_ , and lying, and those big sad eyes and- _fuck_ you. Fuck you.” 

To his credit, the Master hardly reacted. It was almost disappointing. The version of him that she’d grown accustomed to would have snarled right back, would probably be rolling around on the floor with her right now. Instead, all she’d done was attract a small crowd of scandalised-looking Victorians, all gathered at a very polite distance and saying absolutely nothing. 

Carefully, the Master reached up, and detached each of her hands from his shoulders. “Clearly, I wasn’t wrong about your manners,” he said sharply. “However, I can see that you’re troubled, dear Doctor. Do you...know of any way that I could help?” 

He was making her feel like _she_ was the evil one, here. And maybe she was. At this point in both of their timelines, she’d killed a hell of a lot more people than he had. _Morally grey_ probably didn’t even begin to cover it. She was a bad person, and she didn’t deserve his help. 

“No,” the Doctor said sadly, and she let herself fall into his arms. It was selfish, it was a silly, indulgent thing to do in public, but she couldn’t help herself. He smelled familiar, like tobacco and old furniture and _home_. Always home. No matter how he changed, the Master always reminded her of home. 

She felt one arm curve hesitantly around her back, and the Master turned his head to one side. “Go about your days. You saw nothing here,” he said loudly to the gathered crowd, and she could hear the hint of hypnotic compulsion layered in his voice. 

“Thank you,” the Doctor mumbled into his shoulder. 

“It was nothing,” the Master said, ever-gracious. “Listen, my dear- I hardly know the details of what you’ve been through. But- you are ever so fond of your human assistants. If you happen to have any of those around...you should talk to them. Since, evidently, speaking to _me_ is not an option.” 

She sighed. Maybe he was right. Slowly pulling back from the hug, the Doctor looked the Master in the eyes. Eye contact, another thing she found infuriatingly difficult this time around. 

“I might,” she said, eyeing him sadly. “Thank you.” 

“Mm. I do seem to have an unfortunate habit of being unable to stop myself from helping you,” the Master said dryly. “Don’t trouble yourself with whatever your business was with Mr Wilde. I’m sure there are humans far less wrapped up in their own silly lives who will listen to your troubles.” 

“Yeah.” The Doctor bit her lip. “You won’t tell past me that you met...this me?” 

“Of course not, my dear Doctor. This shall be our secret.” 

Her fingers twitched at her sides. A quick press against his temples; he wouldn’t even see it coming. She could wipe this frankly embarrassing encounter from his memories, and go about her day, only hating herself maybe five percent more than usual. Seven percent. Ten. 

Ugh, she couldn’t do it. Not to him. 

The Doctor folded her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits and holding herself tightly. Just to make sure she wasn’t tempted to use those hands to mess with his mind. The Master didn’t deserve that. And she trusted him. This version of him. He’d keep this secret. 

“Thank you, Koschei,” she said, back to avoiding his gaze again. “I, uh...yeah. I think I needed this.” 

“My pleasure, Theta.” The Master’s hand brushed over her arm again, and then he was turning, moving to head on his way. Presumably back to his TARDIS. She sighed. 

“I’ll, um- I’ll see you around,” she called after him, and he glanced over his shoulder, inclining his head slightly. 

The Doctor stepped back until she hit a wall, pressing her hands over her face and taking a deep, shuddering breath. Oh. Ouch. Everything inside of her seemed to ache now; a deep, ancient longing that she knew only too well. 

Maybe it was time to go back to Sheffield. She needed to stop this whole sad thing she was doing. Maybe when she saw the Master again, they could have a chance to reconcile. But that would only come _if_ she saw him again, the him she _wanted_ to see, and that wouldn’t happen while she was busy moping around the universe. 

Steeling herself, the Doctor straightened up, and started the walk back to her TARDIS. No more pining over the past; she had to look to the future. Even if it hurt. Even if the past was so invitingly warm and nostalgic. 

She had to have hope for the future, because she was the Doctor, and that was what she _did_. 


End file.
